In the Brief Eternal Silence (18 page)

St. James thumped his drink down upon the
sideboard, still half full. “She shall need a lady's maid,
grandmother, for she has none.”

His grandmother gave a sharp twist to her
head as she turned to him. “Who is escorting her here, then?”

“I have enlisted Bertie, and his younger
brother Ryan, to bring her up in their barouche. And of course,
Bertie's groom is along with them.”

“Still hardly respectable, Dante.”

“Rather more so than if she had ridden up
alone with me in my curricle,” he returned. And the Duchess had to
accede that point.

“If she is to be here for the season, as you
indicated in your letter,” she told him, “it will still not do for
it to be made known that she arrived in London in the middle of the
night with only the Tempton brothers to chaperone each other.”
Without waiting for any response from him, she added on the heel of
her words, “Ashton!”

Her butler came in, his clothing as perfectly
pressed as though it were the beginning of the day, instead of well
into the next one. “Yes, milady.”

“I shall need you to procure a lady's maid
for our guest that is arriving. Have her here by morning, before
the house is awakened. It will be said she arrived with this Miss
Murdock tonight so that the servants should not gossip.”

“Yes, milady,” her butler replied, seeing,
evidently, nothing at all amiss with having to acquire a lady's
maid to start immediately at nearly one a.m. in the morning. He
withdrew as stoically as he had arrived.

St. James told his grandmother, “Very good,
grandmother. That is one point I should have covered had I not been
so damnedably tired.”

“You should go home, now, Dante. Get some
sleep. I am capable of making Miss Murdock comfortable when she
arrives.”

“I am certain that you are,” he agreed. “But
I am also certain that you are capable of prying a good deal of
information from Bertie and Ryan when they arrive with her, and I
would lief stay around and make sure that they remember
themselves.”

“And what of your Miss Murdock?” the Duchess
asked somewhat piqued, for it had been very much in her mind to
grill the two Temptons without mercy when they arrived. “Is she so
unaware of whatever plans you have that you need not worry about me
gaining information from her?”

“No, blast it,” he said with sudden
vehemence. “For she managed to get a great deal more of my motives
out of me than I was readily willing to give! And she may, in fact,
tell you the all that she knows.” He ran a finger along his upper
lip before adding, “I do not think she shall though. At any rate,
there is nothing I can do about it if she does, and as I say, there
is a possibility that she will not. Whereas the Temptons on the
other hand I know to not be equal to the task of evading your
questions.”

The Dowager could not resist a slight smile,
for it satisfied her old heart to know that she was still quite
capable of being terrifying when she wished it. But she did have to
admit, as much as it galled her: “Tyler, on the other hand, is
quite impervious to my attempts.”

St. James smiled. “Yes, grandmother. That is
the only reason I entrusted him with those letters rather than
going to the bother of hiring a messenger.”

“Letters?” she picked up, causing him to
grimace and again reach for his glass to sip from it. “There was
more than one letter? To whom did another letter go?”

“My solicitor,” he admitted. “But thanks to
Miss Murdock, it was quite unnecessary. For now. All the same, I
shall leave it as it now stands in his hands, for I should only
have to make the proper arrangements again soon, at any rate.
Mayhaps, I should visit him tomorrow, to ensure that he understands
precisely what I wished him to do,” he added to himself.

The Dowager's fingers found the gold head of
her cane and rubbed there as she fully prepared herself to dog this
subject until she had as many details as she could win from him,
but there was a slight tap on the door and Ashton put his head in
to announce, “Lord and Mister Temptons, and Miss Murdock,
milady.”

“Ah, yes,” the old Duchess said. She could
not keep the eagerness from her voice as she responded, “You may
show them in, Ashton.”

She had enough wit to her to observe her
grandson, for he had turned at Ashton's words and was engrossed
upon watching the threesome come in the door of the salon. His face
was tight, concentrating, a question within himself waiting to be
answered. And when the Temptons and Miss Murdock entered the room,
came close to where St. James stood by the sideboard and his
grandmother sat a few yards away in her chair, the Duchess still
did not turn her head to observe the new-comers, although curiosity
was eating at her, for she was much too intent upon watching her
grandson's face with him unaware of it.

She watched as his eyes sought out and
settled on the Squire's daughter, and as he gave her rapid
appraisal, the questioning went out of his face and there was an
odd look of contentment in his eyes for the brief second she had to
observe it. Then his eyelids came half down, hooding any expression
in them at all, and his face took on the unreadable quality he was
capable of when he most wished to keep his thoughts to himself.

Only then did the Dowager turn her head the
slight degree that was needed to observe Miss Murdock, and if her
delayed reaction in greeting that young Miss made her seem very
haughty and untouchable indeed, she was quite unaware of it.

Adding to her aloofness, she still did not
acknowledge the new arrivals, but scanned Miss Murdock from head to
foot, ignoring the two Temptons that stood to either side of her.
Unfortunately, their presence as twin footmen, so to speak, made
Miss Murdock appear all the shorter, as they were both quite tall,
and their fine red hunting jackets and snowy white cravats, well
shined boots and silky black breeches made her brown, worn cloak
and brown, somewhat battered bonnet appear all the more shabby.
Ashton took these items from her and the dress beneath was as brown
and shabby as the rest.

Brown, indeed, was the first word that came
to the Duchess's mind. And where her grandson's description had led
her to believe that although this Miss Murdock was not an
incomparable, that she would at least be uncommonly pleasing, if
perhaps in a way contrary to what was fashionable, what the old
Duchess saw now quite dismayed her. For besides being exceedingly
brown, the miss in front of her looked exceedingly plain.

There was not, as far as the Dowager could
see, a single laudatory feature about the girl in front of her.
Brown hair, brown eyes, and much too brown skin. Adding to that a
short stature (which as the Duchess was rather short herself she
could not truly find fault with) and when one thought of the fair,
voluptuous beauties that one normally associated with St. James,
she could only find it very perplexing, indeed! Her eyes, when one
took time to look, were rather fine, but as for expression, the
Duchess could find nothing but tiredness and a certain wary
bewilderment, as though the miss could not credit that she were
here in this room being beneath the scrutiny of the Dowager Duchess
of St. James. And did not in particular care for it either.

St. James stepped forward and said in a
diverted voice, “Grandmother, may I be allowed to introduce Miss
Sara Elizabeth Murdock, daughter of Squire Edward Murdock of
Chestershire, my betrothed, if I can, in fact, induce her to accept
my proposal.”

The Dowager let all the air out of her chest
in a single shocked exhaling and she watched in quiet amazement as
the young miss before her whirled on her grandson, her tiredness
and perplexity leaving her in a sudden call to arms, and glared at
him.

“That has not in the least been settled,
milord!” Miss Murdock told St. James, and as he only chuckled to
himself, she turned to his grandmother, her worn, threadbare,
poverty revealing skirts twirling with her. “I am sorry, milady,
and I should not carry you such tales, but he has been drinking
quite lamentably, and such being, anything he says to you this
night must be disregarded out of hand!”

The Duchess, recovering from her shock,
managed to smile, for with the sudden animation in Miss Murdock's
face, much of her prior assessment of her being plain took a sudden
reversal. She would never be a beauty, but there was something. . .
“Please do not upset yourself, Miss Murdock, for I can see that you
are all but done in. It is just like my grandson to say something
shocking when one is most incapable of dealing with it.”

“As I have come to understand, ma'am,” Miss
Murdock returned, still quite angry, the duchess could see. “And as
you know him much better than I would even want to, then I am sure
that I can count on you to see that he is merely being
ridiculous.”

The Dowager could not answer that, for as
shocked as she was, she had never known St. James to be less than
serious when making one of his outrageous statements. So instead of
agreeing with or disabusing Miss Murdock of her idea that St. James
was being ridiculous, she merely bade Miss Murdock to have a seat,
and the Temptons must make themselves comfortable also of course,
and she directed Ashton to please bring in tea and cakes, as the
poor child and her escorts must be famished.

“Thank you, milady,” Miss Murdock said as she
settled herself and heard these requests made. “For I fear I am
tired and hungry and very out of sorts. And it is not at all the
way I would have wished to be upon making your acquaintance, so I
do apologize.”

“No apology needed, my dear, for I can see
that my grandson has had you dragged around in quite a deplorable
fashion, and I daresay I would be much out of sorts if he were to
do the same to me.”

“You are very kind, ma'am,” Miss Murdock
replied with a tired smile that still did much to light up her
plain face.

“Kind is not normally the assessment that is
placed upon me, Miss Murdock, so please do not bandy it about to
any degree, for it shall quite ruin the reign of terror I have
managed to sway over for the past fifty years.”

To which Miss Murdock bowed her head and
replied, “Then of course I shall not interfere with that perception
after you have tried for so many years to maintain it.”

The duchess smiled at this solemn answer, but
when she spoke again her voice was a bark, causing the two Tempton
brothers to jump in their chairs. “And what call have you two
gentlemen to be aiding and abetting my grandson and fagging this
poor child half to death with his antics?”

To which Bertie replied, fumbling, “Why look
at the time, Ryan! Had no idea it was so late. Dowager, St. James,
Miss Murdock,” he bowed in each direction after bouncing from his
seat. “Must really beg pardon but fear we must be going now.”

“It is as well!” the Duchess cried. “For I am
too tired to upbraid you properly now. And St. James, you may leave
now also, and the next time I see you, you had better not be
looking as hellish as you do this night. You may call upon Miss
Murdock tomorrow, but not until the evening, mind you, for I will
not have you here disturbing her rest after exhausting her all of
today.”

And with these regal orders, the Temptons
hastened to take their leave, only Ryan pausing long enough to say
to Lizzie, “Miss Murdock, it has been a pleasure, and if I can be
of any further assistance, you know you need only call upon
me!”

And as Miss Murdock began to acknowledge this
statement, feeling very moved at his concern, the duchess overrode
her, saying, “Yes, yes, Mister Tempton, that is all very well and
good but you may get out now.”

St. James took his grandmother's hand in his
own, kissed the back of it. “I see you have everything well in
hand, grandmother, so I shall take my leave.” He turned to Miss
Murdock who sat with her face downturned on the settee, her hands
held clutched together in her lap and waited for her to raise her
eyes to look at him, her expression still very baleful, before
saying in a voice that showed he was enjoying himself very much,
“Until tomorrow, Miss Murdock.”

She gave a sudden, exasperated sigh. “Yes,
milord. As you say, milord.” But her tone was anything but
compliant.

The Duchess surprised herself by giving a
merry chuckle.

Chapter Nine

Tuesday Morning

Ashton came back in the salon door with a
tray of hot tea and cakes, and if he was surprised that the number
of people he had been sent to serve had dwindled with alarming
quickness, he made no show of it. He set the tray down within easy
reach of the Duchess, asked if he could be of any further service,
to which the Dowager only replied to make sure he saw about the
lady's maid. He assured her he already had some promising leads on
that endeavor and then bowed himself out the door once again.

“You may pour, Miss Murdock, if you are not
too tired,” the Duchess informed her.

Miss Murdock did as she had been asked, and
that serene efficiency that St. James had noticed nearly
twenty-four hours prior was evident to the Duchess. One would think
that a poverty stricken, exhausted, rural Squire's daughter would
be clumsy with tiredness and nerves, but Miss Murdock completed the
task with such preoccupied ease and grace that the Dowager had a
small moment's admiration for such a feat, inconsequential as it
may seem.

“So, Miss Murdock,” she said as she took the
tea cup and saucer that Miss Murdock held out to her. “Perhaps you
can explain to me what is going on in my grandson's mind.”

“Indeed, ma'am, I wish I could. For I have
spent all of the past round the clock trying to deduce it myself.”
She glanced at the Duchess from her solemn brown eyes. “I fear,
milady, and I do not wish to shock you, but it is perhaps best that
you understand the full absurdness of this situation, that St.
James offered for me, while very drunk I may add, because my
father, who was also very drunk I may add, informed him that the
horse he wished to purchase from my father was in fact my
dowry.”